Don't Speak
by RainySunnyEnding
Summary: **SPOILERS FOR 4x04** An angsty oneshot based after 4x04. What happens next?


**Well helloooo there! Yep, I'm angry. Still. I wrote this shortly after watching the episode. I don't even know if I want these two to stay together. I honestly don't. I love Kurt too much to watch him get hurt.**

**While I'm angry at canon Blaine, the one who appears in fanfictions is still lovely. It is currently difficult to write nice things about him but I'll try. For Tears' sake. He needs his Cookies. Hopefully my inspiration will return!**

**I hope you enjoy this. Well, maybe enjoy isn't quite the right word...**

**And Kris? You've changed my life. Thank you for being there and for making me smile.**

* * *

He was going out of his mind. The floor beneath him was going slightly shiny from the amount of time he had just spent walking over it, back and forth, trying to collate his thoughts. He brushed a hand hastily back through his untamed, curly hair as a large tear dropped down his cheek.

It had been five days. He'd been back in Ohio for five days. And already it felt wrong. Why did he leave New York? Why had Kurt not replied to his calls? And most importantly of all; why had he cheated on the best thing that had ever happened to him?

Blaine was startled out of his thoughts as a calm female voice crackled over the intercom, alerting him to the fact that his plane was ready to board. Why wait? He grabbed his bag from the seat where he had dropped it and slung it over his shoulder, making his way over to the gate. What was he going to say to Kurt? He had no idea. He'd think about it on the plane to New York.

* * *

He was going out of his mind. The floor beneath him was going slightly shiny from the amount of time he had just spent walking over it, back and forth, trying to collate his thoughts. He brushed a hand hastily back through his unstyled, chestnut hair as a large tear dropped down his cheek.

"You know that these floors are ours to pay for if we wear them out by pacing on them for too long?"

"Why don't you shut up?" Kurt stopped pacing for long enough to shoot a fiery glare at his roommate.

Rachel retreated back into her bedroom where she was busy making a collage of New York. She hadn't wasted much time on crying over Finn. If Kurt had been any more bitter he would have pointed this out, but in reality, he knew about the trip back to Ohio to go and see him, and that it wasn't, in fact, 'a couple of days dorming back at NYADA because they want me to go in for extra hours'. Extra hours for a student? Really?

Kurt continued his pacing and his eyes caught sight of a vase of flowers. He paused and walked over to them. He lifted them to his nose and sniffed. They were scentless. Just like his relationship. He threw them across the room with a scream, the glass of the milk bottle they'd been placed in shattering.

Rachel darted out of her room again, seeing the boy on the floor, arms clasped around his knees and face hidden away. The girl made her way over to the sobbing figure and crouched over him, placing a comforting hand on his back. He flinched away. She sighed. "Do you want anything?"

"I want you to leave me alone."

Another sigh. Then, she stood and grabbed her bag from the coffee table. "I'll take my phone. Just call me if you need me?" She received no answer as she made her way to the door and left the apartment.

Kurt was left alone with his thoughts. Five days. It had been five days since he'd seen his boyfriend. Six since the song in Callbacks. But five days since he'd watched Finn leave, wishing it was Blaine who'd got up. Kurt didn't know what he'd been hoping for. Maybe confirmation of Blaine's definition of hookup. Everyone termed it differently. And hell, it wouldn't make things alright, but it'd make it better. But no, it had been Finn. And Kurt had left not ten minutes after, leaving just a note to Blaine, which read "I want you to be gone by the time I get back." And he had been.

And now neither boy knew where they stood. Neither boy knew where they wanted to stand. Kurt stood from his position on the floor, wiping his hands on his sweats and walking over to clear up the mess of broken glass, water and torn petals. He just wanted to see Blaine. He wanted to know if he could still feel love when he looked at him or if it was just... well, loss.

Kurt sat at his desk, plant remains cleared, and turned on the lamp. It was still light but he felt he could always work better with a light on. But the inspiration wasn't coming. "Write me something, anything," she had said. Well sorry Isabelle, but she wouldn't want a 10,000-word rant on how his life had gone from Teenage Dream to Teenage Nightmare.

He heard a knock at the door and looked up. It must have been later than he'd thought and Rachel was already back to check on him. He sighed. She cared. That was one thing he'd learnt, if nothing else, since moving to the Big Apple. They might have been enemies at first, but they were now inseparable. He stood and pulled open the door for her.

Only it wasn't Rachel. The figure wasn't female. Hell, it wasn't even human. A foot-tall teddy bear sat, looking at him, heart stitched onto his tummy. He reached out to take it, cuddling it in his arms. It felt soft and he closed his eyes to bury his face into its fur. But he wasn't stupid. Toys couldn't move, no matter what Toy Story said. He heard breathing and opened his eyes again.

A short, dark haired man stood in front of him. His face was smudged with tears and he wrung his hands together in nervousness. His eyes were fixed on his feet. Kurt wanted to see his eyes. He wanted to look into them and see their future.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice was hesitant, but it had the desired effect. The younger boy raised his head.

Honey looked into glasz. Both pairs shimmered with the weight of unshed tears. Then the shorter boy spoke. "Sorr- I want- I- Can I come in?"

Kurt gazed at his boyfriend. Memories flashed through his head: the staircase, GAP attack, being serenaded, the first 'I love you's, the first time, leaving McKinley; some good, some bad, all Blaine. He looked at how he was standing, hunched over and hands desperately clutching at each other as if it was his only chance of survival, his hair sticking up at funny angles as if fingers had been threaded through it repeatedly, his cheeks stained with tear tracks. He realised that Blaine must have left school in the middle of the day, and that he'd most probably had a terrible flight, and his parents would be furious when he got back to Ohio, but he didn't care because he just wanted to see Kurt. And again he looked into the eyes, deep, honey-coloured, and full of love, looking as hopeful as they did when he'd found Kurt decorating Pavarotti's casket, as lost as they did while watch Kurt sing Blackbird. And suddenly, just like that, he knew.

Kurt knew his answer.

"I don't think so."


End file.
